Social anxiety, auto-erotic intellectualism, and a whole lot of falling on my butt.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Emerging

So a new Twitterbuddy introduced me to the Reverb project - one writing prompt a day for the month of December, reflecting on the previous year.

It annoys me less than NaNoWriMo, and something about it feels like it might be good for me. Idk. We'll see how this goes.

Prompt #1 – One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

Emerging.

It's so hokey, even to type it. What sort of new age blather has Boulder conned me in to? But I can't think of a better one.

Everything about this year, for better or for worse, has been about me, about my work in therapy, about figuring out who I am (on a really fundamental, neurochemical level), how I function, and how I can make it better.

In some ways, it feels like I'm waking up and seeing the world for the first time. Seeing possibilities, pathways, ideas and options that, even a year ago, wouldn't have been possible. Things that come easily to people - concentrating on one thing at a time, reaching out to other people, taking chances, being honest with myself - these are things that I've had trouble with, wrestled with, for as long as I've known me. Knowing that they're all a part of a larger chemical reaction going on upstairs doesn't solve any of it, or make it easier, but it gives me a baseline to start from.

This year has been about baby steps. Even things as seemingly simple as emailing a professor to ask for help are still huge, terrifying things that I can barely wrap my brain around - but I'm getting better.

I'm making a concerned effort, as best I can, to do what's best for me, and what enables me to make progress towards the life I want to be living. Hell, even something like defining that life was impossible a few months ago.

But I'm working with a really good therapist, and it's scary, but I'm trying. I'm getting there. Slowly.

If I had to pick a word for next year, it would simply be better. I want to be better than I am now, better than where I am now. More confident in me, in my choices, in my ideals. More comfortable with who I am and what I want, and more able to reach for those things, even when they're scary. I don't want to keep living in fear of doorways and possibilities, I want to be able to try things without the weight of the world and all the fatalism in the universe crushing down on me.

And I guess if I could actually keep my apartment clean, that would be pretty swell, too.